


cursed

by thesurielships



Series: 7 Days Writing Challenge [5]
Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Real estate au, it's kinda on crack lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesurielships/pseuds/thesurielships
Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien & Rowan Whitethorn, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn
Series: 7 Days Writing Challenge [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978678
Kudos: 20





	cursed

“Mister Whitethorn,” Ellys called from the door of Rowan’s office, panting.

He sighed. He had an inkling what this was about.

“What is it, Ellys?”

His intern visibly cringed. “Uh, it’s about apartment 2A.”

Rowan rubbed his eyes. “What did they complain about this time?”

“They said the house was haunted.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s what the last ones said, too. Is she already running out of ideas?”

He grinned, maybe he was going to win this war after all.

“Um, not exactly,” his intern replied. He was sweating through his shirt.

“What.” Rowan ground out.

“They said blood has been spilled in that apartment, tying its victim to it. But because the victim has such a strong soul, or chakra, or aura –”

“Get on with it.”

“It retained its appearance as a human. And is trying to sell this apartment to someone else.”

“Why would a ghost be interested in real estate?”

“Basically, and I quote: _‘Legend has it this apartment is cursed. Every owner is killed in the living room as a sacrifice to the moon. And their soul is tied to the apartment for as long as it belongs to them. They can only be free once they sell it away.’_ ”

Rowan was struck dumb by the sheer absurdity of the situation. He almost wanted to laugh. “You’re telling me they believed this bullshit? The apartment is barely 10 years old!”

The intern attempted a smile, though it came out as a grimace.

“Put them on the line, I’ll talk some sense into them.”

“They, um –“ the intern fidgeted, his face ashen.

“What. Again.”

“They’re afraid they’ll catch your curse, sir.”

“My what, now?”

“Your curse. To buy an apartment and be killed in it. They don’t even want to come close to you.”

“So, I’m the ghost.”

Ellys nodded.

“Good,” Rowan stood up, shrugging his suit jacket on. “Ghosts don’t go to jail.”

*****

Aelin was having a marvelous day.

The new couple who had been interested in the apartment next door had clearly been conspiracy theorists. She only had to say _legend_ and they were eating the lies right out of the palm of her hand.

She couldn’t take all the credit, however. Mr Rowan Whitethorn did look like a cursed soul.

She chuckled at the thought, his scowling dark green eyes flashing in her mind.

The bell rang, and she quickly turned down the music blasting on her radio. It rang again, more insistently this time, and she frowned.

“Coming,” she shouted as she quickly turned down the fire on the stove and checked on the potato chips slowly cooking in the oven.

The bell rang a third time and she jerked the door open, a curse flying off her lips. “What the fu-”

“Hello, Miss Galathynius,” said Rowan Whitethorn in his unflappable voice.

He was wearing a black suit today, and it hugged his figure nicely. His green tie brought out his eyes.

_Not bad._

“If you are done inspecting me, miss, I can assure you that I am a live human, and I am not cursed.”

She smirked. “That’s what they all say.”

The oven pinged, and she smiled excitedly as she hurried back to the kitchen.

“Do come in,” she shouted. “We have homemade chips,” she took them out of the oven, “and they smell delicious.”

She snatched one up, tearing up as it burned her tongue. She was too absorbed in enjoying the taste and moving the potato morsel around in her mouth to fend off another burn, a moan of delight escaping her throat when she finally swallowed it, that she momentarily forgot that she had company.

*****

Rowan had to admit, the woman could cook. He’d scented the delicious smell of potatoes and chicken from the door of Aelin Galathynius’s apartment, and he was grateful his stomach didn’t rumble out loud.

When she hurried to the kitchen, he at first hesitated to follow her. But then she let out the tiniest moan and he was at the door before he even knew what he was doing.

“Wait,” her eyes sparkled and he braced himself for another sparring match with the wittiest woman he had ever met. Not that he’d ever admit that aloud. “Does your kind even eat regular food?” She tapped her chin, pretending to be in deep contemplation. “Do you feed on human memories? Blood? Happiness?”

He shook his head slightly, struggling to contain a wry smile.

“Here,” she offered him her arm, baring her wrist. “You can have one bite. One must not derelict one’s hostess duties, after all.”

She smiled mischievously, slowly drawing her arm back, but he grabbed her wrist, tugging her closer. Her eyes went wide, and he could feel her heartbeat ricochet against his fingertips.

He leaned closer, mesmerized by the golden rings in her eyes. She smelled like jasmine, and he couldn’t help but inhale deeply. He brushed his lips against her ear as he whispered, “Maybe I will.”

She visibly shivered, and it took all of his self-control to pull away, feigning nonchalance.

“Please stop getting in the way of our business, Miss Galathynius. The landlord needs to sell that apartment.”

She still seemed a little dazed, much to Rowan’s smug satisfaction.

“If this goes on, we might have to involve the police.”

Aelin blinked her eyes back to focus. “I don’t see why any of that is necessary. That apartment already has a tenant.”

“I’m assuming you’re talking about Miss Nehemia.”

Aelin nodded. “She has lived in that apartment for five years, and she has always paid her rent on time.”

“Yes,” Rowan confirmed. “However, Miss Nehemia ended her contract a month ago.”

Aelin bit her lip, her shoulders slumping. “I know.”

“Then what is the matter?” Rowan attempted a gentle tone. “Were you two close?”

Her amused smirk told him he had failed at gentle. “Yes.”

“Would any of your other friends be interested in buying this apartment?”

She huffed out a laugh. “Gods, no.” She ran a hand through her hair, breathing in deeply. “I’m sorry, Mister Whitethorn. I know I have made it unreasonably hard on you because of my own irrational reasons. Nehemia is gone, and I need to accept that.”

He was torn between patting her on the shoulder and giving her a nod.

He settled for the latter.

“I’ll stop now.”

He sighed, relieved. It was like the weight of the world had been taken off his shoulders.

“On three conditions.”

He had spoken too soon. He sighed, weary this time. “I’m listening.”

“One, no creeps. I am a single and very attractive woman. I don’t want to have to fend off unwanted advances and leering stares every day in my own home.”

“That’s fair,” he nodded. “Done.”

“Two, no couples. I am a single and very lonely woman. I don’t want to lay alone in my bed every night, listening to their bed thumping against the wall.”

He hesitated. Couples were a big part of the demographic for such an apartment.

She cocked an eyebrow, and he knew he had little say in the matter.

“Done.”

“Three, a date. I am a single woman and judging from your brooding scowls and the stick up your ass, you need to get laid. Plus, you’re cute.”

Rowan’s jaw went slack. “You’re asking me out?”

“What, do I need to ask for permission from the devil in chief? Does hell have a curfew?”

He chuckled dryly, and her eyes lit up. “Am I a ghost or a demon?”

She shrugged. “Semantics.”

He stared at her. “You are completely insane.”

Aelin’s smile was a dangerous, wicked, crazy, beautiful thing.

And really, Rowan never had a say when it came to her.

“Done.”


End file.
